Madness in the Method
by Marcus Gaudry
Summary: A '7 Pillars' story. A lot is going on in LA; but right now Marko is more than a little distracted with a personal matter that could effect his entire Clan; especially those linked into the Malkavian Madness Network. Based on continuity established in VTMB 10 years later.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

One thing was certain; Jeanette was wrong. Mark Oxford was not developing a new identity.

Marko knew that even before she insisted they go to Chinatown to visit the Ox in the box, but went along in part to humor her, and in part to see if the Ox in the box might know of a way to put a stop to the ink-blood thing that seemed to have hacked its way into the Network. He wasn't much help. He did make it clear that it wasn't an added derangement to his already cracked mind, but in fact an entirely different entity rather than simply a new identity. Marko was already aware of that much, as he was fully aware of its presence. It was more like an interloper or usurper in the Network – new and unwanted voice. When he said as much to Ox, the old man with his strange little shop only laughed his dusty laugh and recommended that it be exercised.

That was about six months ago. Two months after that, others in the Network started having problems with the ink-blood too. There was no question; the Network had indeed been hacked. The whole thing started, to Marko's memory, the night that Tabby-Cat first tried to kill the Wizard king and then attacked him when he stopped her. Only it wasn't Tabby-Cat that did it at all; it was it. She had it worse than he did. Tabby-Cat thought it was possible to treat their shared condition like a virus, which made sense; it was acting like a virus, infecting the entire Network all across the country. The Network had even gone so far as to make quarantine on those who came into contact with it. That meant he was basically cut off from most of the Network.

Marko sighed. Never in two lifetimes had he ever felt so lonely.

For the past month or so, it had been fairly quiet; at least for him and those in the Network that had been quarantined. Some of them had even begun to risk chatting again.

 _...It travels..._

 _...only one place at a time..._

 _...Isolate it..._

 _...eliminate the source..._

 _...destroy the point of origin..._

"NO!" Marko shouted, causing Jeanette to jump, startled.

"That isn't our safe word, kitten," she commented playfully. "But if you're not in the mood tonight, that's fine; you don't need to shout. We can do something else."

Marko blinked, confused for a moment before he realized he just used his outside voice.

"I'm always in the mood for you, Jeanette," he assured her. "I used my outside voice while talking to my inside ones. The Bad Voice has gone someplace, and they started to speak up."

Jeanette cooed. "Did they say something nasty?"

 _...there's only one way..._

 _...skin the Cat..._

Marko winced. "As a matter of fact, they are. They think it's Tabby-Cat's fault; that she's the source and needs to be skinned."

"What do you think, Kitten?"

"I think she's more like Patient Zero than the origin. She got it somehow from somewhere else and passed it on. It's more complicated than that, but I don't fully understand it either." Marko answered.

"Do you know what I think? I think you're not quite seeing the whole photograph." Jeanette suggested. "You're on the right path, but you're not looking far enough down the throat."

Marko raised an eyebrow. "Go on," he invited.

"Tabby-Cat isn't the source, but she knows where it is and will protect it like a Tiger."

"Why would she do that?" Marko asked. "She's in even worse shape than we are."

Jeanette laughed. "Did you ever think to wonder if she sees it that way, Kitten?"

Marko had to admit that he hadn't. Since this thing got into her, she had grown exponentially; both in power and in authority. To most the authority part would seem like a simple matter of her being a Camarilla supporter since her embrace, but the power part was something of a mystery to all; even the Wizard-King was evidently at a loss.

Or was he? Was he really? House and Clan Tremere were well known for their secrecy; they were like a pyramid in a pyramid. They could _almost_ break off from the Camarilla and be a sect of their own, but they were too clever for that; to do that would liken them too much to the Setites or the Giovanni. The point was, maybe old Harpy Strauss did know something; maybe he was playing his cards pinned to his chest for some reason. Maybe this was some weird Tremere play. Well, the Wizard King should be back from his appointment with his pyramid-boss by now.

Maybe it was time to have a little heart to heart with the Harpy.


	2. Chapter 2

The Wizard King wasn't home. According to Tabby-Cat he was on his way back, and would be home tomorrow. Now tomorrow was today; today was tomorrow yesterday, and now that time has passed away, so the Wizard King had to be home today, if he could trust what the Tabby-Cat said yesterday.

Something was very different about Tabby-Cat, though; she was worse than before. It was like she was of two minds; and not like the Daughters of Janus, neither. Maybe Mr. Ox in the Box had it right; maybe she was being invaded; if that the case, then it seemed to him like the invader was winning. Worse than that, Marko was starting to think Tabby-Cat was letting it happen on purpose. This was part of the reason he needed to talk to the Wizard- King about. He needed to know if the House of Wizards was up to something; if what was going on with Tabby-Cat was part of some plan. He needed to know how the Network played into their design. In order to restore the Network and its Clan confidence, he had to find the source of the virus-hack and cut it off. After that, a system reboot might be needed; or a hard reset, but that he could deal with later. Now he had to deal with now, and now meant that which was right in front of him.

Right in front of him was the Chantry; the bright blue star shining on the top floor. Marko often wondered what that was all about. But that wasn't what he was here for. Not wanting to let Tabby-Cat know what he had to say, he waited across the street, obfuscated, until he was sure that Strauss was alone. He waited, and he watched as first the assistant Harpy left; probably to one of the Elysium sites. Next Tabby-Cat came out with two others that Marko did not know

 _...they're from out of town..._

 _...going back to pointy facts..._

He wanted to ask the Segment of the Network he could access where exactly that was, but he couldn't, not while in obfuscate. That would give him away. He would like to know who had the pointy facts. So he could interview that Wizard, too.

Tabby-Cat and the other two got into a limo parked outside and drove away. Once he was sure that they were clear, Marko broke his obfuscate and crossed the street. He was about to knock on the door when it swung slowly open. Unsure if this was a bad sign or a good one, he stepped tentatively inside, and carefully made his way through the labyrinth that led to the parlor that the Regent seemed to usually favor. Strauss was there, standing in his usual spot, so Marko slowly approached. So far everything seemed fine.

"Hello, neonate; I have been expecting you." Strauss greeted him without even looking to see who it was. "Do you come as Primogen of Malkav, or is this another matter?"

"Greetings, Wizard King!" Marko greeted back with a cheer that sounded false even to his own ears. "This is another matter completely."

"I see. Would I be correct if I were to presume that this is not a request of my services as Harpy of this City, either?" Strauss finally turned slowly to face him.

"If I had a prize to give, I'd be giving it to you right now."

"I'm sure you would." Strauss said, lacking any humor whatsoever. "As you waited outside until Tabetha left, I'm going to also presume this concerns her, and you don't wish her to know of this discussion."

"You, sir, are the champion on this game show." Marko replied. He thought about offering a prize in the form of a boon, but since he already said this had nothing to with the Harpy doing his harping, he decided against it.

"Very well, Marko; we shall speak candidly while Tabetha is seeing my escorts back to the airport. Please, won't you sit?"

Marko selected a chair with a high back and wings to sit in. Strauss remained standing.

"How may I assist you?" the Wizard King asked. "Has your state deteriorated, by chance?"

Marko considered how to answer that without telling him too much. "Nope, not really" he said finally. "In fact, it seems the bug in me has stopped buzzing for now. Does this help you and your Clan in their research?"

Strauss was silent a moment; thinking. Finally he spoke. "Interesting; the virus goes into a dormant phase in one subject as it seems to progress in another. Fortunately, it appears to be isolated to the two of you."

"So it is a virus!" Marko said. This was a big reveal. "Is the bug something you wizards grew? Is Tabby-Cat an accident, or part of an experiment?"

"What happened to Tabetha was certainly not intentional. I can assure you Clan Tremere's priority on this matter is ensuring the well being of both her and you."

 _See how he doesn't quite answer your questions_

 _Ask about the pointy facts, and you will see_

"What about the pointy facts?" Marko asked. "Did that meeting you went to have anything to do with her?"

Strauss balked. Marko was used to people balking when he spoke; it happened all the time when people misunderstood him.

"The Pontifex and I meet regularly to discuss the progress of our Clan in this region. Nothing more needs to be said about that. The subject is Tabetha and you. Unfortunately, we are still at a loss on how to undo what has been done. So far Tabetha's virus approach is the best lead we have."

 _He's protecting..._

 ** _He knows nothing of MY plan!_**

The bad voice came on fast and hard; so hard that Marko reeled in his seat.

"Are you alright, neonate?"

"My voices are in conflict, but I'll be fine." Marko replied. If the bad voice was telling the truth, then talking to Strauss wasn't going to do much good. Still a little bit dizzy from the bad voice's interruption, he started to stand up slowly. "Well, thank you for your time, Wizard King, but I think we're done here. Will you let me know if you come up with a vaccine?"

"Of course" Strauss said agreeably enough.

At the entrance, Marko paused. He turned and faced Strauss. "My voices and I are worried about Tabetha. What are the chances that she will have to be removed in order to clean up this mess?"

Strauss actually cracked a smile. "Don't worry, Primogen Marko. Everything is being done to avoid that."

Satisfied, Marko nodded and left the Chantry.


	3. Chapter 3

A black Hummer hummed past once Marko was a little ways down the block from the Chantry on his way to no place in particular. He would know where he was going, he decided, when he got there. What he needed right now was time to try to figure out the plan; not his own plan, he never really made any plans because there was way too much always going on to make plans with any sort of reliability. It was better, Marko learned, to let things happen as they will and work with what is right in front of his eyes or sometimes what was wrong behind them. The Bad Voice had a plan, though, and the Wizard King knew nothing of it. Another in the Network started to say the Wizard King was protecting something, but didn't say what. Did it matter? Marko supposed that would depend on what he was protecting. What was the Bad Voice planning? The Bad Voice wouldn't tell him, but it might tell Tabby Tabby-Cat. Did she know? She might. Was he a part of the plan? Was she? If Marko was going to guess, and all he could do was guess right now, he would say that yes, Tabby-Cat was part of the plan the Bad Voice had; maybe even she _was_ the plan. But was he part of it, too, or was he an accident, some unforeseen X factor? For that matter, X went away, was that part of the plan? No; that was silly. So what was the point to the Tabby-Cat plan? What was the endgame to this plot? How could find out? He could ask Tabby-Cat, but would she tell? She might, if he was part of it. If he was part of the plan, which part was he? Was the Hummer involved? Did the driver know where he was going, or was he going nowhere fast? Did any of that have anything to do with anything? Did anything have anything to do with anything? Why was he suddenly feeling so existential? Where was the Network? They were hiding from the Bad Voice. This was the puzzle; what was the point of the Madness in the Method?

Marko turned the corner and noted there was quite the commotion in the direction of Tidy-Bear's clubhouse of confessing. This truth inspired him with an epiphany. There always a lot of lively happenings happening in the former church were the Beat-Priestess and Tidy-Bear plied their trade; it might be worthwhile to go there. Where better to exercise one's bad spirits than a church? Even more importantly, all that cacophony was sure to help him unscramble the eggs in his head.

As he approached, he quickly learned that the commotion was caused by the wigging and wagging of emergency vehicle lights. The reason for all the fuss was fire. Marko instinctively backpedalled away from the flames; even farther away than the yellow border would suggest was a safe distance. It struck him as a little bit silly he would worry so much about a dying fire that the fighters had all but defeated already. From his angle, Marko spotted a large bat rise up from behind the remains and take to the sky.

 _...the Wolf and the Bat are one..._

"You mean Fenris, don't you?" Marko said aloud, pulling his aviator goggles down over his eyeballs. He allowed his gaze to track her trajectory and started to follow, wondering briefly if she could catch his scent. Even his scrambled eggs could grasp the idea, though, that her flight probably had nothing to do with him and everything to do with either Tidy-Bear or Damn Sail. His thread of thinking was made stronger when he saw that the likely place she was going was the Hollowbrook; towards the back alley behind the infamous hotel where the Sabbat used to hide. Sensing this might be trouble, Marko activated his obfuscate and carefully crept around the building until he got to the alley behind. Overhead, he heard the screech and squeal of an angry Wolf-Bat mixed with the frightened cries of a guy whose voice he thought he knew. The cries turned to a scream that got louder until it stopped abruptly when the guy who belonged to the voice landed nearby. Before Marko could get a good look at the fallen, broken man, the Wolf-Bat swooped right over his head, prompting him to duck instinctively. Did she do that on purpose? Can she see past his obfuscate, is it a sonar thing? Maybe her nose knows. Or, it could just be that since she's as blind as a bat that was a fluke. Still hidden, Marko watched and listened as Fenris became her old self again and looked around, then spoke to Tidy-Bear. The Beat-Priestess was probably dead. Cops thought Tidy-Bear was a suspect. It occurred to Marko that Fenris could not have been more than sixteen trips around the Sun when she was embraced. He figured out why he thought he knew the sniper. Fenris decided Tidy-Bear had to lie low; they had to ask the sniper what the Plan was. They had to get rid of the Russian Monkey. Marko had an idea.

"Romeo the Cemetery Man has an oven." He offered once he came out of obfuscate. "We can bake the Russian monkey there, and you mix in with the corpses for awhile, Tidy-Bear."

Both of them nearly lost their skin when he spoke up.

"Jesus Christ" Tidy-Bear shouted.

"Nope" Marko replied. "I'm not even from Nazareth. My great uncle might have been, and I think one of my voices is, but not me."

Interestingly, Fenris actually looked relieved. "Finally someone I don't have to babysit shows up." She muttered. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. All we need is some wheels with trunk space to transport this body and we can cremate it at Romero's. We might have to score him some action as payment; I'll even do that personally if I have to."

"Just tell the pervert it's a favor for VV and she'll compensate him down the road." Tidy-Bear countered. It was clear that the Brujah was trying to protect her in some way; probably because he had seen too many minors get exploited already. This effort was a little bit after the horse left the stable, but it was sort of sweet, anyway. "Anyway," he continued, producing keys from his pocket which he tossed at Fenris. "I got the wheels covered. It's probably best you get them and pick me up if the cops are looking for me."

Fenris caught the keys. "Okay, good; this is starting to come together." She said, looking at the broken sniper. "That leaves him. We need to know what he knows."

"I will pick the brain of the second Chunk." Marko offered. This man was a living ringer for the now deceased security guard of the Gallery Noire and LaCroix building.

"Fine and good" Tyler agreed. "Fenris, you get my car from the Parking Garage. Marko and I will get this scumbag downstairs into the storage area so Marko can do his thing. I'll be out here waiting by the time you get back."

Fenris nodded and took off with the keys. Marko and Tidy-Bear hoisted the broken and Chunky one and carried him to the storage area of the Hollowbrook. Then Tidy-Bear went back upstairs, leaving Marko alone with the brother of Chunk.

Once he heard the engine of Tidy-Bears' machine roar away, Marko made quick work of removing the snipers' remaining artillery: a .38, a bowie knife, a police baton, a can of mace, and – this was interesting – a set of three 9 inch pointy sticks. Could they be meant as stakes? Maybe that diamond with a star inside on his breast was connected. As he disarmed the Chunky sniper, Marko also assessed his injuries. He was going to be in serious pain when he came to. There would be no need for inflicting anymore. Instead, Marko searched his own pockets, hoping he was right about remembering what he almost forgot he even had. Finally, in one of his cargo pant pockets, he found what he was looking for; painkillers. Instead of causing pain, he could withhold pain relief.

Gently, Marko patted the sniper's chubby cheek. "Wake up, oh Chunky brother!" he called softly. "It's time to tell a story."

Slowly the surviving chunky one began to stir. His eyes fluttered open and looked straight at him. His aviator goggles still covering his eyes, Marko smiled widely. Chunky frantically reached for his pistol and promptly shrieked in pain as his fractured arm and cracked ribs screamed inside his body in protest of any movement of any kind. Marko held up the bottle of pain killers and rattled the pills inside. He wasn't sure if they would still work or if they had expired, but that didn't really matter right now.

"Doctor Oxford at your service, Chunky one," Marko said with a bow. "You had a bad fall and I will be treating you. But first I need to ask you a few questions."

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Chunky asked.

With a mock confused look on his face, Marko replied. "Wait; I'm the one who's supposed to ask the questions, not you."

"Go to hell, you bloodsucking son of a whore!" he responded through painstaking gasps for air.

"First question;" Marko continued, ignoring the comment. "What is your relationship with the Russian Monkey?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll have to do better than that if you want me to treat you." Marko insisted. "Second question;" he pointed at the badge on his breast. "What is that?"

"Don't you get it?" he hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm not telling you anything, you crazy son of a bitch! You'll have to kill me like you did my brother!"

 ** _There is a better way to do this._**

Marko grinned. As little as he liked the Bad Voice, it was right this time. There was a better way. He calmly lowered himself to his haunches, and stared directly into Chunky's eyes before activating his Dementation.

"But I don't want to kill you, Chunky." He replied gently. "I want to help you, and you know that. After all, _I am your doctor..._ "


	4. Chapter 4

Chunky was very talkative; especially with his trusted physician. Aside from several health issues the brother of Chunk was dealing with: depression regarding the loss of his brother, anger stemming from that depression, poor eating habits as a result of his combined depression and anxiety, the various physiological issues that come with poor diet, insomnia, and a budding drinking problem being just the start of them, Chunky was also very willing to talk about his involvement with the Brightstone group and what exactly the Brightstone was really all about; or at least as much of it as he knew.

"It's not really a government agency at all," he explained. "Brightstone is the name of a privately owned army that's now being funded by the NSA. They recruited me about a month after that Venture Tower went up. My brother was in there that night, enslaved by one of those bloodsucking demons!"

"So you joined the shiny rock out of revenge. They trained you up, and now you're on a great crusade to avenge your brother. Does that put it in a nutshell?" Marko asked. "I suppose the best part is that it's legally sanctioned murder, right? Government funding, all that..."

"You think we're stupid? The NSA doesn't know about the licks or how they run their world. They really do believe the anti terror group line. This gives them plausible deniability if nothing else. Besides; if the government knows about them, how long until it hits the press? It hits the press we have mass panic, untrained cowboys on the street; that would prove to make more problems, and that is exactly what we don't need."

Marko found comfort in knowing that the shiny rock people were operating under their version of the Masquerade; it meant they would have no choice but to keep their attacks at least somewhat contained. Maybe making an attack on some establishment look like a gangland violence attack, or maybe as a strike on suspected terrorists, that sort of thing. Stuff like that can easily be spun the other way. For now, the Masquerade was safe enough.

A pair of headlights filled the alley. It looked like their ride had arrived. He waited a moment, and his guess turned out to be accurate; it was Vandal. He called the dark daughter and requested transport to the clinic for a patient. Of course Therese understood what he meant; this was something they had worked out months ago.

"Well, Chunky one, it looks like your ride to the clinic has arrived. Remember to ask for my associate Dr. Malcolm, and tell him that Dr. Oxford referred you to him. I promise you are in good hands."

"Will you come with me to the clinic, doc?" Chunky asked- almost pleaded.

"Sure" Marko smiled. He and Vandal helped the patient onto the gurney and into the back of the hearse, and Dr. Oxford sat in the back of with the patient. "Now Chunky, _let me tell you what's going to happen next. First, you're going to tell me everything you know about the shiny rock..."_

After he got the Chunky one safely into the clinic at the Lady by the Sea, he hailed a cab to go back downtown. He had some important news for Tidy-Bear. The Chunky one was full of loads information. Tidy-Bear and Fenris were off to the bone yard, but the Network advised him that the Brujah would be at the Last Round soon. They told him things were too quiet in the graveyard; the silence was all too complete and sudden.

 _Ask about the missing bodies..._

What about the missing bodies? Is there a grave robber? Were they Zombies that escaped somehow? Was this part of the Plan? Why do I need to know about the missing bodies? Does Tidy Bear even know bodies are missing?

The cab came to a stop right in front of the Last Round. Marko paid the cabbie and went inside to see the usual raucous crowd; for the most part they barely gave him a glance as he wandered in. He wondered if anyone in here other than him knew what happened to Damn Sail; what was probably happening right now. Should he say something? Were they already on it? The Brujah Clan are usually pretty good at taking care of its own affairs. It didn't look like anything was going on, but that didn't mean much of anything. A quick look around and Marko could see all too readily that Tidy-Bear wasn't here yet. He took a seat and decided to wait. With Confessions burned, Venus gone, the hotel sacked and Damsel in distress, ( _not broken_ the Network suggested), it was inevitable that Tidy Bear would come here to seek shelter. Hopefully he's not in Dutch with them to the point they'd shut him out.


	5. Chapter 5

"This is unacceptable!" The Dark Daughter of Janus exclaimed as she sat in front of her vanity mirror in the half of the suite she shared that belonged to her. "I absolutely refuse to give that loathsome creature the privilege of becoming one of my officers! Do either of you remember how much trouble he has caused us over the years? Do you think I'm going to give him even an inch of opportunity to undo all the hard work I have done? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW RIDICULOUS YOUR PROPOSAL IS? ANSWER ME!"

"It wasn't our proposal, dear sister."

Marko flinched a little bit when he heard the voice as if she was standing right beside him even though the lips of Therese were not moving. He had no idea that either one of the identities were capable of throwing their voices like that. Though he supposed it would make sense; it made the delusion of two separate people all the more complete.

"The idea came from your very own marriage of mutually assured destruction. This was Dirty Ducklings' proposal. Don't lash the messenger with that sharp tongue of yours." Jeanette argued.

Therese scowled in the mirror in front of her, looking at the spot where her sister's voice was heard but nobody was really standing.

"Is that so, Jeanette?" Therese countered. "Is it not obvious to you what Cameron is doing, then? Clearly he's trying to stuff my Court with those loyal to him so he can remove me from office. Is that what you two want, too? Is that why you're willing to endorse Bertram to the office of Harpy?"

"Please, Therese; now you're the one who's being ridiculous." Jeanette laughed. "The night I support the Dirty Duckling is the night I show myself the Silly Clown Wallpaper."

Marko, standing aside to let the sisters fight this out amongst her selves, gulped air quietly; he did not much like the direction this is going at all. He wanted to interject, but had no idea what he could do or say that would do anything but make things worse.

 _An offer can be rejected..._

"Then this must have to do with your disgusting, wicked affections for that Sewer Rat!" Therese shouted. "Or did you think I didn't know? Oh, yes, dear sister; I know very well that your leash on Bertram Tung is woven form those Impious Satin Sheets of yours."

The accusation was met with silence. It wasn't exactly true, but it was the rumor that everyone, including the Tongue of Santa Monica was supposed to believe.

"What's the matter, Jeanette? No denial, no witty comeback? Do you deny that you're just trying to help your pet rat move up the ladder as some kind of treat for his services?"

 _What are you waiting for?_

 _Speak up now!_

"If I may, your highness, my voices and I have a thought on the matter you two are discussing." Marko said. Therese turned her attention to him; she removed her spectacles, and the scowl on her face softened just a little bit to reveal a hint of affection.

 _The mirror is turning..._

"Our thought is this;" he continued. "Just because an offer is made doesn't mean it has to be accepted. What if the tongue wags to the negative?"

Therese hardened her glare again. "Why would he do that?" she demanded. "Of course he would accept such an offer just to spite me and come up with new ways to get under my skin."

"But by declining the offer he would hinder the efficiency of your Court and as result hamstring you as Prince." Marko countered.

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?" Therese retorted, quite apparently as close to hysterics as one can ever get.

"That's exactly his point, Therese." Jeanette pointed out with surprising delicacy. "I can make sure Bertram makes the right choice for you. As for the position of Harpy, I'm sure there will be someone who wants the job."

 ** _The Keeper..._**

Marko winced at the surge of power and authority that the Bad Voice asserted itself. Now he had more questions than ever: Did the Bad Voice mean Susan not Susan? Why would it want her to be Harpy and Keeper of Elysium? Why not Tabby-Cat? Was this part of the Plan? Was he playing into some Tremere trick? Susan not Susan was Toreador, wasn't she? Was she a Tremere pawn, too? What was the Bad Voice planning, anyway? Was this why he hacked the Network? Was he making sure he was heard by more than just the Wizards?

"Jeanette is right, Highness." Marko said, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "There is no doubt at least one other; more suitable candidate will step forward. If you let her convince Bertram to refuse, it would be much better than you refusing him."

Therese glanced to the spot that she 'saw' her twin sister through the mirror. "And how exactly would you convince him? Spare me the physical details; I do not need to hear that filth. What will you tell him?"

By this time, Therese had her hair down and was redoing it in the style that Jeanette favored. It always marvelled Marko how Therese always seemed to do this without even being aware of it. Of course now the Network was being silent; the Bad Voice always seemed to have that effect.

"That's simple; first, I'll assure him that the offer is your idea, and that it is in fact a trap to ensure that he is completely beholden to your will at all times." Jeanette explained. "And then I'll put it in his bubbly brain that the best way he has to infuriate you is to foil your diabolical plan by simply refusing the offer."

It was exactly the idea that Marko had. Only now he wasn't so sure it was his idea. Maybe it was the Bad Voice. Maybe that was the Plan. Maybe he was the pawn. It was a little too late now; he could see it in what was left of Therese's face as the mirror was finishing its turn and Jeanette was gaining the Body without Therese even noticing. Marko had new worry; was Jeanette infected too? As far as he knew, she wasn't in the Network. Did the Bad Voice get past the Network? Could it hack anyone it wanted now?

"That might just work." Therese said thoughtfully. "It's certainly worth the effort, anyway. Besides, even if he does accept, I'm sure I can make up enough make work tasks for him to have to attend to as my new Harpy; at least until that young Warlock...?"

"His name is Rutger" Marko said quietly.

"Yes" She pointed at him. "Thank you. Even if Bertram does take the job, I can keep him occupied long enough to make sure Rutger is ready to take over for him." She hesitated briefly as she applied Jeanette's lipstick onto her mouth, and blew a kiss at her reflection. "Go and make it happen." Therese said, looking directly at her own reflection. She winked at herself in that flirtatious manner.

"Oh, I will dear sister. You sleep tight now..." Jeanette giggled as she spun in the chair and leaped out of it and into Marko's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

It was always fun to watch Jeanette go to work. The fact that part of what made it so much fun was that it was also often extremely terrifying was really a moot point. Right after playing a little game of their own, Marko and Jeanette wasted no time to make their way to the abandoned oil drum that the tongue called home.

"I kind of figured you two might show up tonight." Bertram greeted. "The only question is what end of the big question you're on."

Jeanette put on her best innocently naughty face. "What big question to mean, Pumpkin?" She asked, her voice like saccharine. "Did it occur to you that maybe I just wanted to add Kitten here to the Sundae?"

"Nice try, princess," the Tongue laughed humorlessly. "I know this is about Cammie's offer to make me the new Harpy along with the endorsement of all but one of the Primogen. The big question is what I am going to do with the offer; and whether you want me to back down from it or to go ahead and burn your 'sister'?"

At this point, Marko judged it might be best if he just kept his mouth shut and let Jeanette do all the work. Most of the Kindred in the city tended to disregard the bright and shiny daughter of Janus as being the empty headed party-girl type with all of her screws a little loose, and that was their mistake. Where the Bad Voice clearly had madness in his methods, Jeanette really did know exactly what she was doing; there was method to her madness. If he were to attempt to add to this conversation, he was more likely to mess it up than he was to help anything.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Pumpkin." She replied. "Kitten and I were really looking to get a little kinky." She shifted her posture ever so slightly to convey the image of her being a helpless little girl. "I don't even really know how all that important Courtroom drama works anyway. But since you brought it up, I do know something about that Harpy nonsense that you two don't..." She finished with a playful sing-song in her voice.

Marko saw the cue she was giving him; he had a part in this script she was weaving for the Tongue after all. "What have you been holding out on me, bright daughter?" he asked, hoping to convey a mildly cross tone.

"Only that a certain dirty duckling and a certain Queen Bitch are both threatened by my pumpkin." Jeanette told him matter of factly. Out of the corner of his eye, Marko saw the Tongue quiver. While she was looking at him, she was talking to and tying the Tongue. "They worked out a way to keep Bertie from making any moves against them; by offering him a position in the Court and suddenly he's their puppet and they can tie his strings any way they like."

"I don't buy it, princess." Bertram said. To Marko it sounded like he was tryin to convince himself. It was a losing battle. Jeanette already had her hand firmly on the leash. "There's no way Cameron could talk Therese into a plan that could easily backfire on her like that."

"That's just it," she replied. "It wasn't the Dirty Duckling's idea. In fact, the only reason Therese brought him into it was so they could make it look like it was. They want you to think he was trying to shake a leg up on her and pull yours up with him."

Bertram shook his head violently to the negative. "That doesn't make sense!" he objected. "When have I ever done anything to threaten the Seneschal? Why would he agree to something like that?"

"It's just the principal of the Tower, Pumpkin." Jeanette soothed. "You of all people would know this; those at the top always want to make sure the ones at the bottom eat out their hands so they don't gnaw at the Pillars..."

"...so they give the rats a juicy morsel to ensure they know their place and do what they're told." The tongue finished the thought. "That does make sense; in a proactive way." After a second of contemplation, he rasped his laughter. "Well, there's no way that Queen Bitch is going to pull my strings like that."

"That's what I've always liked about you Pumpkin." Jeanette encouraged gently. "Even after all the fears we've been together, not once have you ever let my sister grope you into anything. You're right; of course, there's no need to start now. If you want add wise from someone who's known her twice; the best way to beat this is to deny her wish regally."

"No need to worry about that, Princess." Bertram assured her; making it clear he knew she meant legally when she said regally. "My decline will be both legitimate and respectful."

"That's good to know." She smiled. "Well, with that out of the way, since you made it clear you're interested in play tonight, Kitten and I will leave you to your work." She took Marko by the hand and started to lead him out of the tank.

"Wait..." he called after them.

Jeanette stopped, faced Marko and grinned. _This will just take a second or two, Kitten._ She said to him telepathically. She took two steps closer to Bertram and did her thing; it was probably the best mind that Bertram ever got in his existence, based on the way he squirmed.

For a brief moment, Marko wondered just how real his affair with the bright daughter of Janus was after all.

... _as real as can be..._

 ** _Just remember; perception is everything..._**

Marko gave his head a shake to ward off the Bad Voice. He didn't want or need it to spoil this splendid moment. What he needed was to find a way to thwart its Plan, whatever the Plan was. To do that, he needed to exercise the Bad Voice out of his noodle and out of the Network for good. But then again, maybe he should keep the Bad Voice around and try to trick it into revealing the full extent of its Plan. The problem he saw with that idea was that as long as the Bad Voice was there, it might manipulate him into doing things that fit its agenda. Another problem he saw was that Tabby Cat was under its influence too; even worse than that, she might or might not be a willing participant. Chances were good she knew more than he did about the Plan, but how much more? Was she a pawn, or a bigger piece on the board?

If only there was way to get the Bad Voice out of his head and prevent it from retreating to Tabby-Cat; which Marko suspected was its home base.

... _she's an outpost..._

 _...she knows! She knows! She saw your trick with the Tongue!_

 _...it all fits in with the Plan..._

 _...Troubletroubletroubletrouble..._

Suddenly Marko was both encouraged and distressed; encouraged because it seemed the Network was starting to overrule the Bad Voice, which made it easier for him to think on his usual constant curve instead of a fragmented dotted line, distressed because the curve was going to what felt like a very bad place.

"Helloooo, Kitten; are you still in my sandbox?"

Marko snapped his attention to Jeanette. She was nestled right up beside him and nibbling on his earlobe, pulling on the earring there with her teeth.

"I thought I lost you to your own little world for a second." She giggled. "We are done here, Kitten; Pumpkin will not accept the Harpy offer, and Therese will not have to contend with him in her court." She clutched his hand and started to pull him away. "Now that work is done, it's time for fun. I feel like dancing!"

Marko nodded and followed her back to Asylum. Maybe she was right; maybe letting loose and cutting a rug would set the curve of his consciousness in motion. Maybe the bright idea will come when he's not trying to reach it.


	7. Chapter 7

After the sun set the following night, the first thing Marko did was check messages on his laptop. The first message he saw was from Jeanette; she wrote a detailed narrative about what happened after he left Asylum the night before. It read like one of those letters one can find in those smut magazines that can be bought over at the Sin Bin in Hollywood. Apparently after he left, Tabby-Cat showed up wanting to play in Jeanette's sand box; with a little help, the bookish witch really let loose. Jeanette said she almost wished he was there to join the party.

Should he be worried about that? He didn't know. He wasn't jealous; that wasn't the way it worked with the two of them. What he wondered about was whether it was Tabby-Cat making the moves in the sandbox, or if it was the other thing; if it was the other thing, then he wondered to what end? How did playing with Jeanette fit into the Plan? Other than that, Marko had to admit that _he_ almost regretted missing out; even just to watch Jeanette bring out whatever wild side Tabby-Cat had in her.

The next message, posted exactly two minutes after Jeanette's, was from Therese. It was a brief, tersely written memo-style message sent to all Kindred of the Los Angeles Domain; both apologizing for the short notice and insisting that all attend a Gathering of vital importance to the stability of the Court the following night. As it was written last night, that meant tonight. Marko had no doubt this was going to be about the Harpy situation. She designated the Yen-Zen Garden as the place, and declared the time. It was fairly early in the evening, which gave all very little time to reschedule to make it, but left ample time after Gathering for Kindred to do as they would.

The fact it was in the Chinatown Elysium was perfect for him. He had somethings to do in Chinatown tonight. He could attend the Gathering, get a good look at the Dirty Duckling's face when Bertram refused to be pinned as Harpy, and then do some farming for Mr. Ox-in-the-box. After that, he might be able to get some exercising taken care of; with the help of Ox, of course. That was why he was farming after the Gathering.

 _...be careful..._

 _...don't let him take you with it..._

"I have no plan of my own, so this will work." He said out loud, hoping he would be able to confuse the Bad Voice if it was around. The piece of the Network he could access was talking, so the Bad Voice was more likely with Tabby-Cat right now, but he couldn't be too careful...

After messages, the next thing Marko did was go down to shop at Tripp's Pawn Shop. Stepping in, he found one thing he wanted right away; as he was going to be doing some farming, a rake was bound to come in handy. He took the rake to Tripp, who greeted him in that trademark stoner way he always did, and asked if there was anything else he needed.

"I am a farmer tonight," Marko replied. "A farmer needs to prune the good from the bad. What do you have for that?"

Tripp had a fit of giggles. "Man; your syntax is always so mind-blowing!" He declared. "You really gotta get me some of whatever you're smoking, or at least share! Anyway, here's what I got tonight." He opened up a closed off cabinet behind him in his big cage. Marko perused through the articles. After eyeing a worn-down looking katana for a bit, something else caught his attention; a pair of one-handed sickle type weapons. Those he could easily carry around in his long coat; the one that matched his tall hat.

 _...yes, get those..._

"Tell me about those sling blades, trippy broker of pawns." He said.

Tripp got excited as he pulled them out of the cabinet. "These are a great find!" He exclaimed. "They came in about three days ago. They're in super good condition; perfectly balanced, sharper than a razor blade, folded steel, and a good weight for throwing should the need arise." This last feature he added a little bit conspiratorially.

"They sound perfect!" Marko replied amiably. "What are you asking?"

"I was asking a hundred, but for you I'll go to eighty." Tripp offered. Marko gave him a look as if to say 'are you kidding me?' Tripp sighed heavily. "Alright; I'll let them go for seventy-five, but that's a steal as it is. Cut me some slack; I do have a business to run here."

Marko accepted the offer and paid man seventy five dollars, in addition to the fifteen for the rake. The exchange complete, Marko left the Pawn Shop. On his way out, Tripp called out to hook him up with whatever he had. Marko didn't say so, but he seriously doubted the trippy broker of pawns could handle what he had.

Given the fact that the Dark Sister called the Gathering, Marko discerned that Therese would have the Body tonight; quite likely for the whole night. While that was mildly disappointing, it was also something that could work out to his advantage; he might be able to piggy-back as an escort to the Prince tonight. It may look like a suck-up move to the other Primogen, but he didn't much care. If he had to, he could say it was to appease Jeanette. Odds were good that Therese would be calling on Fenris to act as valet, but even so it was usually easy enough to persuade her Highness that there was no such thing as too much security.

Just as he was about to meander over to Asylum, he realized that he forgot to pack up the trinket that Mr. Ox handed him; the real thing he needed to plant for his farming task at the Fu Syndicate building to be completed. He turned back and went up to his apartment. Once up there, he dropped the rake- he didn't need it after all – and stole away into the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet where he stashed the tiny idol that the Ox in the Box told him would take root and grow into Bad Luck for a specific target that was connected to that building. All he needed to do was place the idol in that person's locker in their training room. The locker number was number 9; he might have to pick the padlock. If he was blessed with good luck, the lock would not be booby trapped. Ox had a dusty laugh at that thought.

Marko tucked the idol into the pocket of his Cargo pants, and then it occurred to him that he should wear his long coat tonight; the fur lined one that went with the tall hat he was already wearing. The coat would also serve well in storing his brand new second-hand sling blades.

Now he was sure he was ready; now was time to check Asylum to see if he still had time to join in on Therese's entourage to the Garden Gathering.

He did. In fact, Therese was happy to have him along; she was actually surprised that he wasn't passed out in Jeanette's side of the room. Heaven alone knew where Jeanette herself was, Therese commented.

"She thought you might start putting together this important Gathering, Highness." Marko answered her, thinking quickly. "She insisted we go back to my apartment to be out of your way. She had especially naughty ideas for us after dancing..."

"I get the idea." Therese cut him off. It wasn't clear if she believed him or not; it could be she didn't want to hear any details. "I suppose she will be conspicuously absent tonight?"

"She said she would be there, highness; though you might miss her as she will be trying to stay out of sight." Marko answered. "This will be to keep up the air that she is in opposition to you just on the principal."

"That's actually a good thought." Therese allowed. "Very well, then; she can pretend to defy me; as long as it is all part of a ruse to lure out actual threats." The Prince motioned for Marko to get into the limo, and Marko complied; only mildly surprised to fine Fenris already inside. He sat on the bench seat beside her, leaving the one facing them vacant for Therese all to herself. Therese let herself into the car, not creating a single crease in her outfit. Marko always marvelled at how she was able to do that.

"You can speak freely in this car." She said to him. "I can assure you that Fenris will keep whatever is spoken in here in the strictest of confidence. As for Vandal, he knows better than to listen into conversations that I haven't invited him into."

Marko noted that she did not ask Vandal, who was piloting the car, for verification. That made sense; by asking him for confirmation, she would be in fact inviting him to participate. That wouldn't do.

"I presume you and my sister spoke to Bertram." She said, more of a statement than a question.

"Yes, your highness; we have." Marko confirmed.

"I am pleased to hear that." The Prince stated. "Then he will surely behave himself in the manner that is appropriate of his place in my court."

"Yes, your highness; he will. I have no doubts." Marko agreed. He glanced sideways at Fenris momentarily; still wary of revealing too much of what was really going on here.

 _...It doesn't matter..._

 _...means nothing to her..._

 _...she just wants out..._

That was good to know. The Network- or at least his little part of it- was still talking to him; that meant the Bad Voice was probably with Tabby-Cat, which meant it wasn't here with him and wouldn't know about this. It was also handy to know that the Wolf-Girl was here with no personal agenda beyond getting her duties over with. Her desire to leave the city might be of use to him at some point, though he wasn't sure how just yet.

Outside his head in the car, the trip was quiet. Inside his head, he revealed to the Network his own plan that he didn't have, and the Network put in their insights and agreements; there were still some that wanted to skin the Tabby-Cat, but Marko wouldn't have it. That would only happen if absolutely everything else failed. By the time Vandal got them to the Garden parking lot and opened the doors from the outside, the plan he didn't have was as ready to go as it could be; taking into account it didn't exist except outside of his own imagination.

He was ready to deal with the night one thing at a time; starting with the Gathering in which a Harpy would not be named.


	8. Chapter 8

Having just fed, Marko stood in front of the Fu Syndicate building trying to look like he was supposed to be there. Wearing coveralls, a checked shirt, gum boots, and a straw hat, all he could think of was to use the rake he bought from Tripp to groom the soil beneath some nearby hedges. Sensing that the few passersby were eyeing him suspiciously- probably because he was white – he crouched down and started picking up the cigarette butts that came up and stuffing them into the big front pocket of his overalls. _Just some round-eye bum gathering butts to feed his disgusting habit_...

Once he was sure that he was clear, he set the rake aside and casually walked to the front door to find it locked up for the night. Next to the door was a push-button control panel; obviously intended to be the lock. He would have to punch in the right combination to unlock the door. Since he didn't know the combination, and apparently neither did anyone in the Network, he saw two of three options open to him: He could guess until the sun came up, he could try to pick the lock, or he could case the joint and hope to find a breach. He didn't have his pick kit with him, so that was out. He considered guessing, but it occurred to him that an incorrect guess might set an alarm. That left looking for a breach; of course that might set off an alarm, too, but somehow that seemed less likely. Besides, if there was no breach, he could come back to the pad and take a guess anyway.

His mind made up, Marko stole away along the side of the building, hoping to find something, anything like an open window or door left unlocked from which he could enter. Then he turned back, remembering his rake. It might yet have a use for his farming expedition. He got all the way to the back of the building without finding a single thing. In the back alley, he approached a dumpster and quickly ducked behind it when he heard a door on the other side of the dumpster start to creak open. From the door, an older looking fellow stepped out, rolling a mop bucket into the alleyway towards a storm drain. He paused at the drain, cracked his back, and lit a cigarette that was hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Marko saw that the door was being propped open by the mop that presumably went with the bucket the janitor was presumably about to relieve of its contents into the Nosferatu's home. This was perfect.

Marko let the janitor have a few puffs off his smoke before rushing him. From behind, Marko bit him and began to feed some more; it always struck him odd that the eats in Chinatown were consistently more satisfying than anywhere else in town. It must have had something to do with their diet. Or maybe it was just around the Fu Syndicate. Maybe Mr. Fu paid his help well so they could stay healthier and work for him longer. Taking care not to take too much of this man's euphoric elixir in his delectable arteries, Marko drained just enough to render the janitor unconscious. Then he dragged him back into the building, sat him in a closet, and then collected his bucket and mop. He also left his own rake in the closet with the janitor. With luck, anyone else who might come by would believe the janitor was napping on the job. Proceeding down the hall deeper into the Fu building, Marko wondered if the janitor was the one Ox in the Box wanted to reap the bad luck he was supposed to farm while he was here. Chances were good he'd get fired for sleeping when he should be cleaning, so that could be it.

 _...She's here..._

 _...watching you..._

 _Troubletroubletroubletrouble..._

Marko glanced up and down the hall and saw nothing. Even with Auspex the hall seemed empty of all souls save for himself and the napping janitor in the closet. Who could the Network is talking about? Maybe it was that camera. Marko wordlessly cussed at himself for being so careless. Of course a big corporate building like this would have security cameras. Now he had to know two things; who was she, and where was she. It was possible that it was just Imalia being nosy and playing with Mitnick's toys, but that wouldn't have set the Worry Wart of the Network. Marko decided, with all his great detective skills that he didn't have, that it must be a security guard, and she was probably coming to him right now from some kind of security room. As much as he wanted to abort the mission, he needed the help that Ox in the Box could give him, so he had to press on. He took out the sling blades so he would be ready for an attack.

He walked down to the end of the hall and came to door. He gently pushed the crossbar to open the door and carefully looked inside. Inside was apparently a corridor of offices. He quietly stepped through and noted the office doors all had numbers on them: 101, 102, 105, 106, 109... The numbers were very careful to avoid 4's, Marko noted. He paused to consult his memory to recall the number that Ox in the Box told him to plant the Bad Luck Seed. Maybe he could get away with doing this quickly and get out before the ever vigilant security officer on the other side of the cameras caught up with him. The he wouldn't have to worry too much about finding the security room and tampering with whatever recording of his presence in here they might have. The ticket in his memory bank told him it was locker 3 of room UM-1. His best guess hinted he was looking for an underground floor; most likely under the Main part of the building. He could forget about looking in either of the wings and stay as much in the middle part of the facility; at least for now. He may still have to figure out where the control room for the cameras is. Underground meant he needed either stairs or an elevator to go down.

He easily found both; the building was designed most efficiently. Now he had a choice to make. Would he take the elevator, or would it be the stairs? There was no fire, so the elevator was safe on that front. The note beside the stairs clearly stated they were meant to be used as an emergency exit. He wasn't exiting just yet, but this was kind of an emergency. Using the elevator, it occurred to him, would be a huge tip off to his watcher; whoever and wherever he – or she – may be. Finally, he decided the stairs were the better choice to make. It was exactly because of this fact he had to physically restrain himself from pushing the car call button on the panel beside the elevator before pulling the door that lead to the stairs open. In this exit, there were stairs leading both ways; up and down. He looked up and saw nobody. He looked down and saw nobody again. He was momentarily amazed at how quickly nobody moved; nobody was able to be in both places at the same time. As quietly as he could manage, Marko crept down to the next level, hoping this was the right place to be.

The door on the next landing told him it was indeed the right place to be. "UM" the door said. He pushed the door and it opened. Looking inside, a big surprise; it was yet another hallway with doors that were numbered, all so very careful to avoid the number four in any form; even adding up to four or multiples thereof. _And people say that_ I'm _crazy._

He finally found the door he was here to look for; UM-1. He turned the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn't. The door opened easily to a change room with plenty of lockers. Now all he had to do was find locker number three and plant the seed. There was a name that Ox said was attached to that locker; Marko consulted his memory to find it. The name was a name he saw before or after he heard it, so it could not have gotten buried too deep into his memory, but at the moment he couldn't find it. Maybe it would be on locker number three. Another thought crossed his mind; he wondered if the Bad Luck Seed could affect him if he held on to it too long. The chain of lockers along the walls was broken up by a public shower system. Number three had to be on the other end, the end opposite the entrance. That felt a little bit like bad luck right there; having to go so deep into a room with just one exit, thus boxing him in for the vigilant watcher to track him down.

At the far end of the second room, Marko found locker number three. As an unexpected bit of serendipity, there was no lock on it; Marko noted that locker number three had a name, and its name was Chang. A very common name, to be sure, but he heard it or saw it very recently. Could it have been the janitor? Marko once again consulted his memory, and sure enough it was; the janitor had the name stitched into his uniform. The unimportant question now was; why did Ox in the Box wish such interesting times upon a janitor. He opened the locker pulled the seed from his pocket. He paused to examine it; a small idol that sort of resembled a little man with burns and scars all over it. Shrugging, he placed the seed into the locker and shut the door. With the task complete, he turned to leave; he barely had time to wonder what the bad luck he just planted would like.

 _Ka-CHUNK! THWAP!_

Marko crumpled onto the locker room floor as soon as the wooden bolt shot through and stuck into his left leg. His sling blades clanged on the floor as he gripped the bolt with one hand and started to hoist himself back to his feet with the other. He looked up and saw young Asian woman standing across the shower, a new bolt already loaded into the crossbow she had trained on him.

"I know what you are, demon." The woman said. Not once did her aim falter as she spoke while Marko struggled to his feet. "I don't know why you came here, but you will die here!"

... _Yakima...  
...Shiny Rock..._

"I have no doubt you know what you know," Marko said, pulling the bolt from his leg and healing the wound. "But you should know what I know; I know the people you work for are in league with the Shiny Rock."

She balked ever so slightly, though her aim did not falter as she muttered something in her own language.

"You know Brightstone?" she demanded; "How?"

This was exactly what Marko was hoping for. She was engaging him in conversation. He chuckled lightly, like the way someone might chuckle before answering a question asked by a naive child.

"This city is ours, little girl." He said. "Our people are everywhere, and nothing happens in the city of Angels that we don't know about."

Again she muttered something in her own language.

"That's how we know all about Brightstone; the things they do to normal people in order to get to us. Just like the criminals whom you answer to."

"You lie!" She said abruptly; it sounded to him like she was trying to convince herself. She was almost ready...

"Believe what you want." He shrugged as if it made no difference at all to him. "It won't change the fact that while you call us demons, it is you who for the real monsters."

Ever so slightly, she lowered the crossbow. Now was the moment; Marko whammied her with one of his Jedi mind tricks.

"Besides, you don't think I'd be stupid enough to come here alone, do you?"

The expression on her face changed to one of surprised alert as she whirled around 180 degrees and fired the bolt at nothing. Marko had absolutely no idea what she thought she saw and he didn't really didn't much care. Snatching up his sling blades he rushed her while her back was turned.

She had good reflexes. In the time it took for Marko to dash across the room to her, she had recovered her senses enough to drop the crossbow and spin around with a roundhouse kick, narrowly missing his head. Marko could feel the heel of her boot whisk through his hair when he ducked under her attack. He countered with an uppercut swing with one of his sling blades, which she blocked and batted away with a lightning quick motion of pulling out a katana. Trying for another strike, he swung the second blade; targeting her midriff. With what seemed like almost contemptuous ease, she blocked that strike too; she followed that up with a leg sweep, taking Marko off his feet. Turning the blade downward, she forced the katana towards his chest. Marko rolled to one side, avoiding the sword as it plunged deep into tiles exactly where he had been a moment before.

By the time he got back to his feet, the woman had abandoned her sword in favor of trying a more hands on approach; at least for the time being. Marko was up to one knee when she introduced his jaw to her foot, knocking him off balance. Reeling, Marko nearly dropped the sling blades. The woman paused just long enough to produce a dagger. It was just enough time. As she moved in Mark met her lunge with the dagger with an upward arc of one blade, catching her bicep and severing several tendons along with an artery. Wailing sharply once in pain, she dropped the dagger. It was now basically over; in a matter of moments she would bleed out. Still, she fought well; Marko respected that. He just couldn't let her die this way; death by bleed out is painful and unpleasant. Better for her if he ended her quickly.

The woman crumpled to her knees. She looked up at him, clutching her arm in a vain effort to slow the bleeding. With a sharp double swing, he sliced at her throat. For a full three seconds she continued to look up at him before her head toppled to the floor in front of her.

Marko wondered momentarily if it was true that a decapitated person can actually see for a moment or two after their head leaves their shoulders. No time to entertain such thoughts; as relevant as they may be. It was something to be explored later. Perhaps as a conversation piece with Jeanette. Now it was time to clean this mess up a bit; at least enough to offer a Masquerade friendly explanation.

 _...she saw it all..._

Marko moved the body to the middle of the shower. After snatching up the head, he turned all the showers on, and watched for a few seconds as the blood was wasted; slithering down the drain in the center of the floor like a crimson snake. Shrugging, he walked briskly back to where he left the janitor, who was still dozing. Carefully placing the head in the janitors' lap, he patted the janitor lightly on the cheek; calling to him to wake up.

The janitor moaned groggily in protest, but came to enough for Marko to do his thing. Hitting him with one of his mind-whammies, the Malkavian whispered in his ear all that the janitor needed to know; his vengeance was complete with the death of the woman. He was proud of his accomplishment. She deserved to die. He completed the ideation with a maniacal laughter. The janitor started to laugh along with him, gibbering something in his own language. Satisfied that his work was as done as he could get it, Marko left the building. Next he called Mitnick. He made an arrangement for the Nosferatu computer whiz to remove all digital evidence of his presence at the Fu Syndicate. Even more important, to make it look like a total hack and slash job; something a rank amateur would do on site if possible. He offered a trivial boon for the trouble, hoping the computer geek might miss that boons are basically moot for the next month or so. Mitnick was all too happy to take care of it. Marko decided that he was going to miss the sling blades, which he left behind in the running shower, so investigators could find the weapons that the janitor clearly used for his heinous crime.

That done, Marko returned to the box that held the Ox.

"You are always welcome here," Ox greeted with a croak.

"Thank you," Marko replied. "The deed is done."

Ox regarded him appreciatively. "Did the seed take root?" He asked anxiously.

"Well," Marko answered, "the seed was planted where you prescribed. A vigilant night watchwoman with a mighty sword and good reflexes fought honorably to stop me and lost her head. The janitor knows without a doubt that he is responsible."

The Ox tittered with a grandiose sense of triumph. "Bad luck for the janitor, indeed! You have done well, Bad Luck Farmer! Your harvest is most appreciated and will be rewarded." From his table, he picked up a small item wrapped in a cloth. Its shape suggested that it was a handheld mirror. "Do you know what this is?" Ox asked dryly.

"Wait; let me take a guess." Marko said. "It's a vampire mirror! You look into it, and it steals your soul- or whatever else might be in the way of your soul."

"Yes," Ox confirmed with a long, drawn out one word response. "Whoever looks into it becomes lost in it, trapped on the other side. It is yours for sowing the seed of Bad Luck. Be very careful how and when you use it."

Marko took the mirror, still wrapped, and left; thanking the Ox and assuring him he will use his purchase well.


	9. Chapter 9

Having finally found a good place to hide the vampire mirror, Mark Oxford returned to his crappy little Santa Monica apartment above Tripp's Pawn Shop. As always, he took notice of the vacancy left behind after he had disposed of the evidence in regards to the murder of his television set. Once again, he pondered what he should fill that vacancy with; not another television. That would completely defeat the purpose of killing the first one. Perhaps a plant would work; maybe a cactus that he could name Joe, or maybe name it Daisy if it's a girl. The idea that Jeanette might get jealous of a girl cactus did not even cross his mind. It was clear that Jeanette liked both boys and girls.

As usual, he was a bit surprised to realize that his radio was on; especially since he did not remember turning it on when he came in. Then he remembered that he always left it on so the apartment would seem occupied while he was out. Also, he liked the apartment to as filled with conversation as his skull cavity usually was. It was no wonder he often forgot about it altogether. Sometimes it gets hard to differentiate between the apartment and the skull cavity. While he was contemplating the cactus, Deb of Night entered the conversation.

"Hello, LA. You're listening to Deb of Night. Or, at least you are unless you happen to be in those darkened blocks of Downtown around the new federal agency building, where even as we speak a heavy presence of both security and uniforms have formed a perimeter around the facility for crowd control and the mitigation of damage caused by vandals and looters. There's a lot of speculation buzzing like angry bees around a hive on that one tonight, so whether you're lonely or lost, or just want some pillow talk before you turn in, come on in and call. I'm right here and the lines are now open."

 _...pay attention..._

"Hey, Deb..."

"Hello there, caller!" Deb greeted. "Tell us your name and share your thoughts."

"Ummmmmmm..."

"You don't need to be shy, caller. Just take a deep breath and let it out. That's what I'm here for."

The caller took a breath and let it out. Finally he spoke; he started by saying he didn't want to give his name, to which Deb responded by asking if she could just call him George.

"Yeah, I guess that would be ok. Anyways, Deb, I just wanted to say I saw that perimeter you were just talking about, and there's something about the uniforms I wanted to mention."

"Go ahead, George."

"I think they're Navy outfits. What I want to know is why is the Navy helping an anti-terror force deal with vandals and looters?"

"Well, maybe they were just who had their hands on deck, George." Deb suggested.

 _...that's not it..._

"Doesn't that seem a little convenient to you, Deb?" George countered, apparently finding his stride. I don't think it's anything as simple as looters or vandals. I think it's a sleeper cell trying to take the Anti-Terrorists down, and the Navy is there as reinforcement."

"Don't you think there would have been a public address if terrorists were loose in the City, George?"

"Not necessarily," George replied, getting excited. "The government could and maybe would put a gag on that news in order to avoid a city-wide panic!"

"Well, George," Deb retorted, "I don't think the government needs to worry about that. It's evident that you have the panic of the city all to yourself. Next caller..."

"Hi, Deb, it's Samantha here from down in the Pit." A woman whose voice Marko recognized as the Rose's ghoul announced.

"Well, hello there Sammie" Deb replied in that super-friendly radio voice kind of way that almost always smacks of sarcasm, yet this time somehow didn't. These two are on some level of good terms, Marko decided. "Is this call business or social?"

"I guess it's a little bit of both, really," Sammie said. "First, I'm calling to announce that Naked Fire is coming to LA to fill in for Ebola Cereal as our house band until their medical issues are resolved. Russell Norton spoke to us, and promises a whole new playlist with new tunes and several of his classic hits."

"We have some exciting news, Los Angeles!" Deb said. "A West Coast favorite from our neighbors to the north, Naked Fire, is coming to the City of Angels. You'll be able to see them live at The Pit in Hollywood for an undermined length of time, and you heard it first right here on the Deb of Night. What else was on your mind, Sammie?"

"Well, I got to thinking. You know about the protests at the other Anti-Terror building; the one in Seattle, right?"

"Yes, I do." Deb replied. "It's really quite the fascinating story."

"Yes it is," Sammie agreed. "So I was wondering if maybe this craziness Downtown is somehow related to that. What if it's another protest like in Seattle, but this one just got out of control with the blackout?"

 _...almost there..._

"I'll be honest with you, Sammie," Deb responded in a matter-of-fact girl talk tone; "that sounds like a distinct possibility to me. I'll tell you what; I'll keep my ear to the ground on that one. In the meantime, I'm going to have to pay some bills and I've got space to fill, so I'll do it with a little of that classic Naked Fire sound."

The room was filled with music; a song that was quite the thing in the Pit awhile back. The blues riff was accompanied with a fat sounding bass with lots of flange and a simple drum beat to go along with a singer that sounded like ate an ashtray just before taking to the microphone:

Behold!  
The Dirty Man!  
He's got a dirty plan,  
eyes full of dirty sin,  
He wears a dirty grin.  
Dirty?  
Am I dirty?  
I'm so dirty and so are you.  
The pretty lies are finished now,  
It's time for the dirty truth:

Everybody's dirty.

Mouth full of dirty words,  
He's such a dirty bird.  
He drives a dirty car,  
He's got a dirty heart.  
He wears a dirty shirt,  
lives in a dirty world,  
He's got a dirty mind,  
it's just like yours and mine.  
Dirty?  
Am I dirty?  
I'm so dirty and so are you.  
The pretty lies are finished now,  
It's time for the dirty truth:

Everybody's dirty.

The song was followed by two or three commercials.

"Hello, L.A. and welcome back to the Deb of Night. It is way past your bedtime, so if you're listening I'm sure you have a lot on your mind. The lines are now open, so go ahead and pick up the phone and give me a call." Deb invited; somehow the invite always sounded just a little bit more than a little provocative. Marko guessed that was intentional.

 _...you think...?_

"Shut up" he said with his outside voice, surprising himself a little. Maybe the Bad Voice activity was getting to him than he realized. The Network really had to do something about It.

 _...push back..._

 _...make It not like it here..._

"Good idea" he agreed. Of course that was only part of the solution; they also had to get It into the mirror. That would probably mean seeing Tabby Cat. That would be the tricky part, especially since so many in the Network wanted to skin her.

"You're on the air, Gomez!" Deb greeted. "Don't keep us in suspense, Gomez. What's the latest big angle you have for us tonight?"

"Good evening, Deb." Gomez said, sounding very somber. Almost instantly Marko could detect hints of a lot of talk therapy and a good dose of medication in his inflections; it was difficult to determine exactly what medication over the radio waves, but it was clearly of a prescription type. "First, I want to apologize for wasting so much of your time on your show while in my manic state of mind over past few years. I assure you now that I have been seeing a professional and taking my meds as prescribed. What I'm about to tell you; tell the whole city, really, is based on real information I obtained from a real source who's legitimately in the loop on the matter I am about to touch upon."

 _...here it comes..._

"That's good to know, Gomez." Deb replied, her tone changing; it went from her signature sarcasm to one that suggested she genuinely wanted to hear what Gomez wanted to say.

 _...playing nice for X..._

"Okay. Good. Now I need everyone to listen very carefully. This is about those protesters in Seattle, which is very likely related to the bedlam going on Downtown even as we speak. My source, which has asked to remain anonymous, has the inside scoop that these so-called Anti-Terrorists are really a conglomeration of elite soldiers with an agenda to gradually turn our nation into a Police-State. Through them, the government and the corporations they answer to are surreptitiously and quietly exercising a policy of Martial Law. I know it sounds no different than any of the other stuff I have said on the air before, but I want you all to think about it. The Facilities are set up, and all of the sudden the homeless population on the West Coast drops down to next nothing; it's not because these people suddenly have homes and jobs, either. They're just gone. Then the same Federal agency has PR people telling us they have been housed for their own protection, yet nobody knows where they are. The reality is they have been taken off the streets as a means of removing the chaff." He paused there, as if it to let that idea sink in.

"Go on" Deb said, as if interested.

"My source also claims that one homeless couple actually escaped the facility in Portland, Oregon and started talking about bizarre medical experiments. No sooner than they started getting any attention, they get silenced. My bet is that a week from we'll see that same couple either dead of a drug overdose or living like royalty somewhere after some kind of big pay off. Before long, we'll be seeing business getting raided as 'suspected terrorists' and little by little our basic civil rights and liberties will get compromised to a greater and greater level."

"I can't believe I'm about to say this." Deb said. "You know what, Gomez? I think I'm starting to believe you; or at least that you might be on to something, based on how well that fits with similar reports that have come across my desk."

"Really?" he asked, shocked that he wasn't getting dismissed and hung up on.

"Really." She confirmed.

"Then maybe you'd agree that something has to be done to put a stop to it; for the good of every free citizen of the United States of America. Don't get me wrong, Deb, I'm not advocating what's going on Downtown at all. What I mean is that what they're doing in Seattle seems like a really good idea right about now."

"Well, look at that!" Deb interjected. "I'd love to continue this chat with you, Gomez, but I have to interrupt you for just a second. No sooner than you start talking about taking action and protests do I get a message online for those interested in setting up a forum on the subject. For those interested, you can go to the Keep LA project at..." Deb read off a domain page a couple of times and then played another song; this one was about a parade.

Curious, Marko booted up his system and checked the site. Sure enough, it was a forum. He recognized some of the names on it: VegaX, Knockknocks, Mad Hatter, Fat Larry, Sin Bin, SammieJ, and Romero were all on there. The list growing, too; even Therese _and_ Jeanette were on there. Maybe one gave the other permission through the mirror. Marko wondered briefly which one had the Body right now; most likely Jeanette; she could easily have stuck Therese on the list regardless of whether Therese knew it or not.

 _...the Prime Rose set this up well..._

 _...Shiny Rock is slowly getting dim..._

That was good to know. Now he could focus his own issue with the Bad Voice.

... _she saw...!_

 _...they think they know...!_

 _...Troubletroubletroubletrouble..._

That wasn't so good. Tabby Cat was smart; so smart it was a little bit scary. If Ox in the Box was right, then the Bad Voice was even smarter and stronger than even Tabby Cat could hope to understand. Marko had a moment of disturbing clarity that made him see just how deep down the rabbit hole he really was.


	10. Chapter 10: the 4th wall?

Marko lost sight of her. He just saw the Tabby-Cat stroking Susan not Susan, and before that she was comparing claws with the wolf-girl. Now he couldn't see her. Was the Bad Voice blocking him? No, that made too much sense; it was too easy.

 _...look to the exit..._

Sure enough, there was Tabby-Cat, striding casually past the stage to the EXIT; a quick glance and Marko saw that Imalia caught that, too. By his estimation, the Cleopatra most likely assumed Tabetha decided the scene was lame, and she probably agreed. As he struggled through the crowd to pursue the Tremere, he made a mental note that Imalia consulted her phone. That would be something he would have to review later; for now he would store that little factoid in his memory. It might be relevant to some other matter that he was as yet unaware of. Although, he had discovered that it seemed everything was related somehow. It was like they were all living in some kind of horror story mini-series; all of their fates or destinies determined by some kind of author, and each of their lives being revealed chapter by chapter...

... _who said they're not?_

Marko gave his head a shake. There was no time for that nonsense now. Clearly his imagination was getting away from him again. Wasn't it? Yes, of course it was. There was no author; there were no readers. None of that could be real; how could there be two realities? There couldn't be. Could there? Surely not; the only way any of that rubbish could make sense was if he himself was a work of fiction, and that notion was beyond insane. If Marko was certain of just one thing, it was his own reality; he was real, even if nobody else was. He was also fairly certain he wasn't the author- except maybe of his own destiny, and even that was up for debate.

By the time he finally got to the EXIT and into the rear parking lot of the Pit, Tabby-Cat was well on her way. He just saw the Wizard mobile turn out of the alley and onto the Main drag. This was bad, but not all was lost yet. He had an idea that she was off to find the vampire mirror; most likely to put it into deep storage somewhere so that nobody could ever put it to use again. She might even ship it off to her Seven within the Seven so they could figure out how to make use of it. Now it was just a matter of getting to it before she did. On that front, he had the advantage; he knew exactly where he left it, and she still had to find it. Two nights ago, he thought the Network was warning him about the girl with the sword, but he figured out later they meant Tabby-Cat. That was the problem with the Network; it was never wrong, but sometimes things got interpreted wrong. In some ways, the Network was like a Malkavian version of a real-time Bible; always right in itself, but often misinterpreted to disastrous ends. That was, of course, making the bold jump that the Bible was real and that the Network was real, and that any of what was happening was real.

Marko let out a frustrated cry; he hated when his noodle insisted on going on squiggles like this. This one was even more maddening than the Plan. Unless, of course, this was all part of the Plan...

A crashing noise behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He whirled around to see who was there. All he saw was some hobo rummaging in a nearby dumpster. It appeared like he was trying to find a way to climb the fire escape to get into an upstairs window that was left open. Perhaps he should go back in and tell X that someone was trying to break in. The problem was that if he did, then Tabby-Cat would get too much of a head start. She may not know where the mirror was, but she was sharp, and there was always a chance she'd be a good enough kitty to sniff out her treats. Instead, he sprinted around the building and out onto the street. Waving his arms, he hailed a cab and got in.

"Where to?" a richly deep, dark voice asked him.

"Take me to the Asylum." Marko replied, trying desperately to not recognize that voice.

"Very well." The Driver acknowledged him. There was no denying it; Mark Oxford knew whose cab he just got into.

This was the Dark Driver.

The trip started off in silence. Marko was wary of speaking; dark things came out of the Dark Drivers' mouth when He spoke. At the moment, Marko had a suspicion about Him; if those suspicions were even close to truth, then there was a chance that the Driver did more than drive a cab. He might be driving the story. If the Dark Driver drove the story, then wasn't He the one who drove reality? If He was the one who controlled reality, did that make him the Author? Maybe the Dark Driver was the only thing that's real anymore; maybe all of everything else was just in his mind.

Finally He broke the silence. "You seem lost in thought. Perhaps you would like to share your troubles?" The Dark Driver offered.

"Are...are you talking to me?" Marko asked, stammering.

The Dark Driver chuckled. "Is there anyone else in this cab?"

"You tell me." Marko replied.

"What do you think, child of Malkav?" He retorted. "What do your senses tell you?"

Suddenly, Marko took notice that the Network was completely silent- or almost completely. He could hear – or rather feel – the Network whimper timidly as if in sheer terror. This kind of thing made Marko nervous; he always found it difficult to think clearly when the voices fell silent. Not that he blamed them; the Dark Driver was one scary dude.

"Honestly, I don't know." Marko said, trying his best to sound casual. "Right now I'm not even sure if I'm really here. I'm not even sure if any of this is anything but a figment of someone else's imagination. Or, maybe all of this is just a dream; maybe your dream for all I know."

"Perception is reality, child. You think it is, and it is." The Driver assured him.

"That's just the problem!" Marko exclaimed. "I don't know what I think!"

"Then I can assure you, Kindred," He said, "you and I are the only ones in this cab right now. Now you are at a crossroads; you have a choice to make. Do you wish to continue as you were, or to give up and remain at the mercy of others?"

"But what does that mean? What difference does anything make if nothing is really real? If none of this is real, then how can there be any consequences whatever choice anybody makes?"

"Life, or unlife, is determined by our decisions; it is what we make it. No destiny is ever set in stone." He advised. "The question that must be answered now is which path will you choose to take?"

Marko had to give this as much thought as he could manage. He knew he should probably go to Asylum and retrieve the mirror before Tabby-Cat could find it, but he couldn't help but wonder if there was any point; if Tabby-Cat is meant to have it, she'll get it. Obviously the Driver thought otherwise; or wanted him to believe that was the case at any rate. That by itself was almost motivation enough to go back to the Pit and watch the show. If the Driver was merely making sure Marko played his proper role, then maybe he could foil the whole thing...

...which would change the plot forever and likely make things a lot worse than they already were.

"I'll go on to the Asylum." He said finally. "I have to pick something up there."

"Very well; I will take you there." The Driver said. The rest of the trip was silence. Nobody, not even the worry-wart in the Network, said a single word.

Once at the Club owned by the Janus 'sisters', retrieving the vampire mirror was simple enough; he just walked through the relatively quiet club and towards the elevator, got into said elevator, and took it up to the second floor waiting room which would lead to the suite that Jeanette shared with...well, herself, really, but that was an entirely academic and currently irrelevant topic. In the waiting room, there was a large mirror mounted on the wall. It was some time ago that Marko noticed the mirror could be pushed and that there was a hole in the wall behind it. He gently pushed the big mirror- it now had a crack in it – and reached carefully into the hole. There he found a small item wrapped in cloth; the very item he came for. Now that it was in his possession, it was theoretically safe from Tabby-Cat; or more accurately the Bad Voice that lived inside Tabby-Cat.

"You're not half the liar you think you are, Therese. What are you not telling me?"

Apparently Therese and Jeanette were having another one of their notoriously famous quarrels. Marko had an idea what it was about. Jeanette originally wanted to go see the Naked Fire at the Pit, but Therese had absolutely forbid it.

"There's nothing to tell, Jeanette." Therese had replied. "I simply do not want my impressionable little sister falling in with a band of Anarch smut merchants. Lord knows you've filthied yourself up on your own; the last thing you need is help from the likes of Russell Norton."

"Oh-ho-oh, that's the pause able line, isn't dear sister?" Jeanette retorted. "Lets we forget the dirty duckling you keep in the bath. You two are up to something."

"You're being ridiculous, Jeanette." Therese replied, her voice dripping with contempt. "Of course Cameron and I are in frequent communication; he's my Seneschal and makes himself available at all times." She sighed in resignation. "If you really must know, Cameron was concerned that a violent element might be encouraged at that show, and suggested it would be a bad idea for you to go."

 _It's true enough..._

That was a bit of a comfort; Dirty Duckling seems to want to keep both the sisters alive; probably because he is aware the twins share a body. It was also a mixed comfort that the Network was back online. His thinking started clear almost right away, but it came to him that maybe the author was hiding in the Network. If there was an author, of course he was in the Network; he'd be everywhere.

Giving his head a shake, Marko decided he'd heard enough. He headed for the elevator as Janus continued to fight her selves.

 _...go home..._

That made sense; if Tabby-Cat wasn't here looking for the mirror, then she would have to be at his apartment. Now seemed as good as any to end this thing with the Bad Voice; it was time to head home and deal with Tabby-Cat and her new master.


	11. Chapter 11

With the vampire mirror he hoped would exercise Tabby-Cat tucked into the waistband in the back of his pants, Marko arrived to find Tripp sleeping in his cage. It was possible he simply passed out from smoking too much, but Marko had his doubts. He carefully walked down the alley to the entrance he used to access his apartment.

 _...They're heeere..._

Worry wart said something new! That was disconcerting. Helpful in that it could only mean that Tabby Cat was here, and the Bad Voice was with her; or maybe it was the Bad Voice was here so Tabby-Cat had to be here, Marko couldn't quite decide which the more accurate interpretation anymore was. He supposed it didn't much matter; either way it meant the same thing. It meant this might be his best and only chance to get the Bad Voice out of the Network and not have to skin the Cat to do it. He just hoped the mirror would take one of them and leave the other. In this case he hoped he could get the Bad Voice to come forward so that Tabby-Cat would be safe until the Bad Voice was gone. He liked Tabby-Cat and wanted her back; preferably with her skin intact. Besides, the prospect of sharing Jeanette with another Kitten was starting to sound like a lot of fun...

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty..." Marko called from the bottom of the stairs. "Hello, Tabby-cat, I'm home!" Pausing to wait for a reaction, he could hear someone scrambling, and then stopping. He could hear two voices from one mouth upstairs. It was her, or him, or them, whichever; and the noise was in his apartment. He quickly climbed the stairs and hesitated at the end of the hall where he could see that his door was left open. He knew he closed it and locked it before leaving.

"What's this, then?" he called out. "The door is open! That must mean I have someone passing my tress!" Tabetha must have heard him trotting down the hall, because the moment he burst through the open doorway, she caught him in her snare; pinning him to the ceiling. As he crashed into what was evidently his new floor, he heard the mirror crack upon impact. In a momentary lapse of insanity, he hoped that it wouldn't be so damaged to impair its ability. This was the only exercising method he knew of.

 **"WHERE IS IT?!"** She demanded. Her voice was inky; all water logged and black. Her eyes, even from behind her tinted glasses, were void of any light. Her aura was almost completely black; only the slightest veins of blood red ran through. Whatever the Bad Voice was, it was in full control over her. Even worse; Marko had the idea that she wanted it there.

"But Gramma, what a big, Bad Voice you have." Marko retorted. The Bad Voice slammed him down to the floor, pinning him face down.

 **"Do not play games with me, whelp!"** The Bad Voice said. **"You know what I seek. Surrender it to me, and you might see another night."**

"I SURRENDER!" He cried out with a shrill and desperate shriek. "I SURRENDER! What am I surrendering?"

Then Marko noticed something; Tabby-Cat's snare loosened a little. He discovered he could move just a little bit. He started to slowly reach around his back.

 **"THE MIRROR!"** it shouted. **"HAND IT OVER!"**

"Oh!" Marko said, finally reaching the mirror hidden behind his back. "You must mean this!" In a flash, he pulled out the mirror, the cracked glass facing her.

"No!" she shouted in a near panic as she realized what was instantly starting to happen; an inky black mass was being drawn out of her and into the mirror.

Two things happened at once. First, the moment the transference was complete, the mirror popped out of his hand and floated into Tabby-Cat's. Next, Tabby-Cat pointed at him with her free hand and a stream of fire shot out of her finger. With a yelp of genuine fear (fire is always trouble for the undead), Marko dove for cover, the stream of flame shooting over him and into the bathroom door. The door caught.

Marko shouted in disdain and scrambled to the kitchen to get the fire extinguisher he kept under the sink. Meanwhile, Tabby-Cat used the distraction to take flight out the window, mirror in hand. Preoccupied with the fire in his apartment, Marko had no choice but to let her go, and hope that the Bad Voice was now trapped behind the cracked glass.


End file.
